The Screams Continue
by kreoff210
Summary: Every man breaks in Azkaban. One way or another. [slashish, I guess]
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: Characters belong to J.K. Rowling; not I. I wish..._

_AN: This fic is set in the mind of Sirius Black during his time in Azkaban. A look into a mind touched by a Dementor._

"I think you fail to realize the magnitude behind all of this." He stated with a sneer. His dark eyes laced with hatred and fear of the world around him. "You and I are wanted men. Cast out by society for crimes they believed we committed."

Bitterness. That's what was sewed into those words. Strung together with the need to rip out of his skin. Giving to them what they claimed he was. What I was. A murderer.

As simple as that. We were cold, blooded killers. But I wouldn't. Won't allow myself to believe it. I am innocent. The man with such despair and regret in his eyes wouldn't hurt a fly. Not consciously.

"And that's the point you fail to see." He was barking at me. "I'm not always consciously aware of my being. My state of mind. For all I know, I could have..." He shuddered. I knew he couldn't say the words. He is not a murderer.

"I am!" His dark pupils are larger than life. "I am. You weren't there. You were never there. You could have been, but you chose not to be." His syllables cut deep. Deeper than any self mutilation I could ever do to stop the pain I brought upon him.

"I've changed." He continued, those deep blue eyes sober as the day he was born. "I'm not the boy, the care-free idiot, you once knew. I've done things I'm not proud of, but content with. Things I had to accomplish, for reasons I know you will not comprehend."

That's when I punched the wall. Blood splattered from my broken knuckles and flowed freely down the white paint; pooling at my feet. How dare he tell me he _knows_ I will not understand. I've been in prison for years! For crying out loud. To hell with his superior knowledge on how the human mind works. Fuck that shit! I was streaming out smoke that would have brought any normal man to his knees; begging, pleading, crying to make me stop such an attack of words and emotion.

But he wasn't even fazed.

Didn't bat an eye.

Didn't break down were he sat.

Just continued to stare, unmoving, taking one gulp after the other of his Firewhiskey.

When I finished, he smiled. A wicked grin that lit up those almost black orbs he called eyes. This light dwelled both in cheer and devastation, and for a brief moment I thought he was going to kill me. I could picture him leaping off the mattress. Feel the pain course through my spine as it collided with the wall. Taste the dryness that etched my lips from the lack of air flowing down my windpipe. Then there was blood. The crimson liquid dripped into my eyes as sharp claws dug into my flesh.

My vision blurred, and it dawned on me that he never moved from his position. His lips parted; he was speaking again. I knew I had to listen. His words meant whether I would live or die.

"Stop being a fool, relax. Why would I kill my creator?"

a/n _I'm going to do something I normally don't do...and that is have an author's note, so tell me what you think. I wrote this in a spand of two hours and at work. I just couldn't stop. There might be more that pop up every once in awhile, depending on my mood, but for now, this is the only one. It's complete. Unless you all want some more. :O) Thanks for reading._


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: charcater prop to JKR, altho we all might wish; the mood is mine.

He screamed his throat rare; leaving his own crimson life to soothe the damaged tissue. His thinning body convulsed as it slowly fed on itself. His gray eyes held tightly into there place behind closed lids. He didn't need them. If he had a sharp enough object he would have rid himself of the horrible devices that gave him a front row seat into the depths of hell, sooner.

His nails were achieving that feat, but he was weaker than he would admit. And every time those dark shadows past by he became lost in the twisted thoughts of his mind.

_'Release the burdens. Give in. Give it to us.'_

Burdens. Life is a burden, they claim, joy is a burden. Pain always followed-love.

Love? His voice cracked as the madden laughter took him over.

Love is pain.

"It is." Agreed that all too familiar voice.

"He's right." Offered the second.

"Yep." The third was a sweet soprano, laced with a giggle.

_Oh_...she was laughing at him. _Such torture._

"Lighten up." The first spoke.

"Yeah." The second coasted, the third 'hummed' in tune.

"Just give in to what already claimed us."

"What you gave to us." Chimed the second, the hazel eyes flickered of death.

He was so close; ready to take those razors to his face then it hit him. "No!" He screamed. "I'm innocent! I will make the traitor pay!"

Silence.

"You are the traitor." Came his sweet as chocolate voice by his ear. "Have fun."

And then there were shrieks and wails, but not his own.

His form was relaxed; the sun's rays played on his face. He lay stretched out on his back his head resting on the lap of his love; the fingers of the others' right hand running through his long black locks. They massaged his temple and he practically purred in content.

He heard their counter parts to his left, giggling and laughing, enjoying the mid-day sun just as he was. The water of the lake lapped to his right. He had a terrible feeling that he would never hear that sound again. The voice in his mind, warned him to treasure this moment for it will not last long.

"Treasure it." His love agreed. "Savor the scene. Devour the taste. For..."

His lecture was lost. He wondered if he turned to a mute; lost his lustful chords. "Moony?" He breathed. He opened his eyes to space; open skies. His head rested on the grassy floor. "Moony!"

He sprung to his feet; ignoring the lead that laced his arms and legs. "Prongs? Lil?" He twisted to face them, hoping beyond hope they were still there.

Air.

He wanted to drop back to his knees; to cry like a new born child, but he wouldn't. Couldn't. His ducts were dry; and he was grateful.

The lead weight doubled, as the silent voice reached his ears. "Moony!" He beckoned yet again, as the outline of his love drifted away in the dark, forbidden forest.

He bolted after the figure; ignoring the sudden change in temperature. The drop of the beautiful scenery. The lack of light. And much to his dismay, he could not touch the hand that summoned him. Could not comfort the dull eyes that meant the world to him.

He sped up in his pace, but to no avail. He had to hold his love; he needed the feel of flesh and bones in this welcoming abyss.

_Oh_...He whimpered, giving the last of his faith, his beliefs in wrapping his scrawny digits one more time around the others out-stretched hand. Grey closed tight; he claimed his prize, but soon began to shake as the icy touch pulsed through his fingers, along his thin fore-arm, and worked its way up the rest; leaving no warmth left in its path.

Dare he open his eyes? Dare he challenge Death with his bold up bring? _Oh, hell yes!_ His mind shouted. _Fuck no!_ The small nagging whistle sounded.

He was torn between the two. But as he felt his hand blacken under the frosty bite; he listened to the first, then wished he had not.

A hollow hood gleamed back at him, and, although, the grey shut immediately afterwards, the sight was burned into his conscious. Nothing remained, but the sight of Death's brother. For Death was too busy to be bothered by the likes of him.

a/n _I couldn't resist, here's another...and I think my mind is workin' on one more... :O)_


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